In an effort to expand my blog-reading, I have been trying to stumble into people with a more like-minded blog: Wine drinkers. All it’s making me want to do is go to the store and get ten bottles of red wine and just down them all. Don’t get me wrong, I love reading about what my fellow winos are up to and their thoughts, but it’s enough to drive this wino to drink….where’s the donate button to get me some wine?!
Tag Archives: red wine
I may have lied.
Perhaps I can’t just blog without the aid of sobriety. Perhaps I should also examine the effects of the following day. I can assure you, it is the next day, and I am sober. My cat is making muffins on my lap and drooling slightly and purring because he knows my cells are shriveled with dehydration and that my head wants to shut down and go back to bed.
Oh the next day.
You know, the next day, the following day, the morning after – it should all be illegal really. Anything which causes a person pain ought to be illegal. Isn’t that why domestic violence is illegal? Meth? Hitting people with your car? They’re all illegal because they cause someone pain – so why not make the day after a night of drinking illegal? They should just ban it, take it off the calendar or something or other.
The morning after indeed!
I’m not in that much pain. Just wanting a cup of tea and tired and whining because I don’t want to go to work in an hour. Poor me – I have to get up and go to work by 10:45 in the morning. Such a trying life I lead!
I’ve always said I’ve lived a charmed life. Grew up in the right neighborhood, went to school where there were no bullies, lived in a town that was once rated the 4th safest place to raise a family (I believe since then it has upgraded to second) in the United States.
Now I am part owner in a video production company, manager at a really amazing coffee shop that has a Japanese-style garden in the back with dramatic hills whose leaves are currently frosting the accents of it with yellows and oranges. I have a duel citizenship, which grants me the right to live anywhere that the Queen of England has say. Truly, a charmed life.
So I sit and grumble here in this fancy leather chair that is my boyfriend’s, on his computer that has been blessed with coming out earlier than Windows 8, and complain because I don’t have enough time to make and drink my cup of tea before I have to dash off to my charmed work experience. My tummy might be rumbling as well.
Do you know how last night started? I was watching an amazing British comedy, Black Books, and tarnation but they do make me want to drink some beautiful red wine. But no, all out. There was some hard cider in the fridge, but that wasn’t wine. It didn’t hold the same glass as a bottle of red did, and it’s cold too (I really don’t like cold things).
Just to put my yearnings to rest, I decided to peek inside the alcohol cupboard to assure myself that there was no wine to be had.
But as we already know, I was wrong.
In fact, I was so wrong – there were two half bottles of red and three unopened ones.
SINCE WHEN DOES THE WINE FAIRY VISIT ME????
And since I had been tossing this idea of an inebriated blog around in my head during the evening, I realized that this must be a sign. I of course would show some restraint since I have to work today, and only consume
one two of the already half consumed bottles (Amendment: After originally writing this entry, I ventured downstairs to the kitchen, I found another empty bottle….So two half bottles of wine were sloshed away).
But there you have it. I have my red wine consumption for the days, that which should keep my heart nice and healthy on top of all the chia and hemp seeds I add to most of my dishes, all the vegetables that release their vitamins and minerals in my body as they are processed after mastication, and never mind the rive that just has a pleasant texture. My diet is good, my red wine consumption is good – the only thing I am missing is yoga and meditation. Getting there, though.
I heard tell we are meant to have a girl’s night tonight. I had a reason I wanted to dye my hair black, though I can’t remember what it is. But tonight, there will be girls (and my boyfriend), wine, and hair dye. This can get messy on many levels.
You know, I battled over the use of Layed or Laid. Of course, now when I type it, it say that “layed” is not a word, so clearly these little squiggly lines are trying choosing sides. No matter. The groundwork must be laid.
I live in Washington State. You know, that liberal place in the top left corner that’s still a part of the main land. The one that just legalized the recreational use of Cannabis – oh yes, that one. Well don’t judge. It’s a functional means of relaxation that can also do a fair bit of healing, hence that ability to acquire a medical recommendation for the stuff.
I am born and raised with a background of spending my summers in North Wales. I have a great many – ok, one – reasons for this – though none of the matter other than that the experience taught me to drink!
Never mind that though.
I have considered myself a mild psychonaught, that is, one that explores the inner depths of the mind. I am intrigued in most mind-altering things, especially what I like to call “hippie drugs” – those that are none addictive but allow me to explore the innermost workings of consciousness. With this knowledge that you the reader have now learned of me, please know that my inebriated writings, rants and ramblings will not just be prompted by alcohol or cannabis (though the latter is rare), but in some (rarer) cases, induced by hallucinogens and perhaps from time to time those drugs which promote the production of serotonin within the brain.
Like I said, those will be rare.
It will be far more common for me to be indulging in red wine – because it’s good for the body and equally common – gin. It’s the English in me.
From time to time I smoke some pot, though it’s rare as well. During my higher evenings (and my sessions do generally occur in the evening, unless on quite a special occasion), I become trapped in myself – a creative whirl of thought that I can’t keep track of when using my verbal capacity to express myself, yet too much thinking to focus on the keyboard in order to hold onto the creative thought I had a firm grasp on just seconds before.
Drinking has never really been my go-to when it comes to creativity. However, I once had a few drinks, everyone had gone to bed, and I began working on a story. I wrote a whole chapter – or maybe it was just a page and a half (I’m not entirely certain), and by the next day, I had forgotten I had worked on it – until I went to go and work on it. I looked and the additional pages, saw that it had last been updated the night before, and was delighted in my brilliance I had portrayed during my slurred memory of the previous evening. I began to wonder if perhaps – just perhaps, I could in fact write when my brain was a bit wet with a bevvy or four.
This is part experiment. Part to know if I can make my way under water – fire? How functional of a writer I am? Can I hold an audience? Can my less-than-mindly-self keep to the promise that is this blog?
Well, it sounds silly when I put it that way.
I like red wine. I used to only like mead which upgraded to sweet Roses (only because I can’t put the accent over the e like I should), which altered to flowery whites. Hell, I used to even know the type of whites I enjoyed drinking. But that all went out the window because of cheese.
I didn’t like Red Wine, or Blue Cheese, until one day some one told me to put the cheese in the center of my tongue and sip at the red wine.
My world was changed. Suddenly I could not wish for any other way to spend my evenings than with a variety pack of cheeses and a bottle of red to share. White became stringy and tart and rose seemed like a fake cheer-leader in comparison to the curvy and robust red wine.
Of course, as time went on and I began my path down my nutritional education, it didn’t help that I found the excuses as to why red wine should be regularly consumed. After all, it’s good for the heart. It’s right there next to dark chocolate – which I consume without guilt as well.
Damn, I’ve done it, haven’t I? I’ve given it away that I’m a woman.
Woman. That word is an interesting taste in my mouth as well. When does a girl become a woman? Is gal an in between phase, much like guy is between boy and man?
Then I came across the book – the most wonderful book there could possibly be. I found it at the college books store when they were going out of business (sad, really. Especially in a town where there are three colleges and one university! It’s a Dollar Tree now. I’m sure there’s some form of irony there). It was there in a pile of books that were marked some 106597% off – ok, the book was 75 cents. But it was there, waiting just for me. I bought it, though I dare not read it for fear I become a lush. But it was there, hard-bound with a smart jacket and everything, ready to be taken out to dinner 0 “The Red Wine Diet”.
You see why I haven’t read it yet, don’t you.
I let it sit on my shelf and be pretty, waiting for the day when I know that I can say no to that bottle 100% of the time.
Now I do sound like a lush. Well, I assure you, that I do not regularly drink. Perhaps once a week on average. However, if I am to say watch a certain British sitcom about a book store owner who smokes worse than a chimney and puts a goldfish’s drinking to shame – well then I can’t deny the idea that a good glass of red sounds superb. Just like when I used to read certain books about a bounty hunter that used to be a lingerie buyer – I couldn’t say no to a doughnut.
But it’s red. That is the key. It is red, and red is good for the heart and is classy – and no, it doesn’t really but actually does matter that I spent no more than $3 on a bottle. It was on sale. I’m a thrifty non-lush.
Do you know what I am?
I’ll get to that later.
This will be the first and last sober entry you shall come across.
Well, that’s not true. A cider and a glass and a half of red wine down, I can’t really claim myself to be sober.
You know, I have been trying and trying to find my niche of what to write about, how to get my blog out there. Sure I write beautiful entries for myself in my own personal journal, but that is just far too – well, personal! How can I share that with the world?
There might just be an obvious answer to that.
I am the manager – or newly appointed Assistant Administrative Director – or something or other – at a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere. I enjoy making coffee. You know I actually once got myself a job as a supervisor at an ice cream shop in North Wales by simply telling them I wanted the job because I like coffee and I like ice cream – it’s amazing what a bit of honesty will get you!
There is a point to this, I promise.
I work in a coffee shop because of my honesty above – I really like coffee. What’s more than my enjoyment of coffee is my love of making coffee. It’s like a potions lesson to me. How do I get it to layer just so? What is the exact amount of time before the shots of espresso go stale? (Damn, I just realized this thing doesn’t give me the little red squiggly line that tells me I’ve done something wrong with my typing). How do I make rice milk froth as brilliantly as whole milk? – and so on! (hmm, I am venturing away from my point somewhat)
During my enjoyment of my job, a woman stopped in. We began chit-chatting, and low and behold, she is a writer – and somewhat successful at that! She told me about the books she wrote and the blog that got her known.
It tickles me when I meet actual real writers in the flesh – the normal people that pop into a coffee shop and can show you they’re nothing different than you other than they simply found their formula that worked for them. She simple told me, to every question I asked, was to find my niche.
So here I am, finding my niche.
I have many niches. But the problem is, I have difficulty limiting myself to one niche – at least with enough passion to write regularly on a topic. I am an American (kind of)! I was raised into an ADD nation! I can’t keep focus on one topic for a year! That’s perpostuous! Yes, I don’t know really how to spell that word, but it is so!
Then, in a craving for a glass of red wine to slosh through my system (I won’t lie, it was British comedy which created the craving), lighting struck, and my brain gave way to my ADD niche.
I can write about all I want, whatever I want, as long as I am far from sober, or at least, off the sober beaten path.
I will have no restraints, or rather, less restraints on my ideas and thoughts, and who knows – all manner of typing might be out the window! In these cases, those which discontinue my understanding of how to work a basic computer, I will attempt to use a video blog. There will be times when my method of inebriation will also discontinue my mental database which grants me access to speech, but we will cross that bridge when it comes!
I will promise to you, the reader, that I will explore different means to a complete utter non-sobriety (Because Sobriety is entirely over-rated) and bring completely giberish straight to you, the reader.
Perhaps I should lay down some ground work. Well, I’ll leave that for another entry.